All is Lost Without Emotion
by SunshineEmmy2
Summary: OneShot. 1st Fic, so please readreview! Set after Pilot. Standing outside of Sam’s apartment, or what was left of it, Dean had no idea how to help his brother. Nightmares, scrapes… those were easy. This? This was out of his league.


I've always loved reading angst ridden, brotherly love stories, but I feel that I have been taking more than I've been giving. So I'm doing my civic duty!

I own Sammy, well, Sammy my puppy. Sammy Winchester is all Kripke's, along with Jess & Dean much to my dismay.

* * *

Standing outside of Sam's appartment, or what was left of it, Dean had no idea how to help his brother. Nightmares, scrapes… those were easy. This? This was out of his league. 

The fire chief was doing his best to be sensitive with the questions he was asking, but Dean was having a hard time focusing. Just past the investigator was his brother. His _baby_ brother. Sam was flopped onto the lawn, looking like he had melted into the grass. He just stared through the smoke at his house, mirroring the haze that filled his head. He couldn't grasp any emotion right now. '_How ridiculous' _Sam thought. '_My girlfriend just died, and I can't even cry.' _

After the questioning was over, Dean cautiously approached his brother. Dean breathed in the awkwardness, masked by the smell of smoke. Reaching out to put a hand on his brother's shoulder, he stuttered momentarily, as if he'd forgotten how to be a brother. He continued his gesture, and Sam was snapped out of his (minimal) thoughts, turning to face his brother. Dean had expected him to be a mess, but this was worse to witness. Sam's giant saucer eyes were blank. Nothing. Dean was taken aback for a second, but he knew he had to stay in control. Something else had just transformed Sam's life into an insane chaotic mess, and Dean knew he had to be the constant right now. He guided Sam to the car without saying a word, not that it was difficult though. Sam was on autopilot.

* * *

It had been over a week since the fire, over a week since Sam had smiled, laughed, cried. It was as if Sam's whole body and mind had been injected with Botox, he'd shown nothing, and if it wasn't for the nightmares, Dean wasn't sure if Sam had _felt_ anything either. Dean had tried to get Sam to talk about it, but it was difficult to have a conversation with monosyllabic words. After the first few days of being patient, Dean had broke. As guilty as it had made him feel, Dean wanted to clock his brother in the jaw. Not to hurt him, but to help him. It was the only thing Dean could think of to make his brother do anything. _Something.  
_

* * *

He had learned his lesson earlier that week that sleep was not an option. A flash of Jessica on the ceiling was enough for him to empty the contents of his stomach all over the carpet next to his bed. Dean tried to crack a joke that it matched the carpet, but his pained gaze read louder than the joke. So Sam lay in bed counting his breaths. There was nothing else to do, everything else resulted in him thinking. Thinking, or even functioning at all, led to _her. _He pushed her out of his mind as quickly as that bastard had taken her. Restless, he threw the sheets off and quietly made his way out of the motel room. He had no idea why or where he was walking, obviously, for that involved thinking. Sam had been lost in counting his steps when he finally looked up and noticed where he had led himself. '_Oh God, no' _His first instinct was to run, but he stopped himself. He bent down in awe of her beautiful name. _Jessica Lee Moore_. He ran his index finger through the grooves, hoping he could connect with her somehow. He'd sworn he could smell her shampoo, and his heart became overwhelmed. With one whiff, one possibly imaginary whiff, he felt something. Almost two weeks, and he finally felt something. It wasn't grief, regret, or even heartache. The feeling of love swirled around his body, and he immediately became warm despite the frost that was building over the blades of grass. Wanting to be closer to her, Sam laid his body down over the dirt where they had buried his life a week earlier. Sam lay his cheek to the ground, almost expecting to hear her speak to him from her coffin. When he heard nothing, he began clutching clumps of dirt and newly planted grass seed. '_Fuck you' _He whispered to the debris in his hands. This was the barrier keeping him six feet away from the only one who could allow him to feel right now.. The warmth had left him, but it took him a second to realize that he wasn't shaking because of the cold, but because of silent sobs wracking his body. The quiet was broken when the anger and heartache began to erupt out of his body. '_I'm sorry'_

From a distance, Dean stood leaning up against a tree, with a pained smile on his face. Though it broke his heart to see his brother's raw grief, it also showed him that Sam was going to be okay. His brother had always been characterized as hyper-emotional, and these past weeks had scared him, because without Sam's emotion, he just wasn't Sammy.


End file.
